The Queen of Traitors
Page 58

It’s time to let him know just why no one crosses me.
NOW I MUST find where Serenity went. She’s a smart woman, she knows I won’t let her die, and it appears she’s figured out before me that Goldstein played us both.
All this time I thought Serenity’s symptoms had been the result of her pregnancy.
Fool.
I’d been had.
The thought brings on a wave of rage so strong an animalistic cry forces its way out of my mouth. Without thinking, I grab the back of the bookcase next to Serenity’s desk and topple it over.
I do the same to the filing cabinet. I hurtle a paperweight across the room, and it punches a hole through the drywall. I can hear my guards running back towards this room.
“Stay out!” I yell.
So help me God, I will kill the first man that comes through the door, and I’ll enjoy it. Lucky for them, they listen to my order.
The quiet drone of the computer catches my attention. The screen is dark but all it takes is a jiggle of the mouse and it comes to life.
Two windows are up on the screen. The first is an informational page on two drugs. A single, chilling word pops up repeatedly throughout the article.
Abortion.
I taste bile at the back of my throat. For one sheer instant I believe my wife rid herself of our child.
Anger, betrayal, and soul-searing fear all move through me, and for one second I feel the devastation Serenity always alludes to. I feel as though I’m losing everything all at once.
And then I remember. The x-rays, the scans. She found her medical file. The site she left open gave her only a definition.
She didn’t seek out the drug; she must’ve found evidence of it in her medical records.
The second wave of my rage rushes through me. Her miscarriage was no accident.
Goldstein killed my child.
I almost leave then. I already know that Goldstein will not die quickly, and I’m eager to see that man suffer as none have before him.
However, the second window catches my eye. On the screen is the palace’s directory. It’s listed in alphabetical order, and about five people and their corresponding contact information fill the space of the screen. Four of the names and faces mean nothing to me. But the fifth one, the fifth one I see almost daily.
It’s my newest recruit. The Beast of the East. Alexander Gorev.
Serenity
DR. GOLDSTEIN AND the Beast of the East. Two traitors who are in communication. Two traitors who are sharing my personal information. Two traitors who’ve tried to kill me—if my assumptions are correct—and succeeded in killing my child.
I smile viciously as I head to the office Gorev uses while in Geneva. This is one of the few times I’m actually pleased with my fractured conscience. I wanted an excuse to kill this sad sack of human flesh. Now I have it.
The random assortment of numbers scribbled on Goldstein’s note referred to Gorev’s fax machine, a number registered in the royal directory.
I don’t bother going after Goldstein. Not yet. The doctor will face my wrath later, once the Beast is nothing more than ashes.
Do these men not realize what I did when my father died? Did they think it would be any different with my child? How cocky both must be to think I wouldn’t find out.
I reach Gorev’s office. Another thumb scan and I’m inside. I make myself at home. Immediately I begin to flip through his drawers. In the first one I find cigarettes, a fancy metal lighter, and a bottle of 186 proof whiskey.
A man’s most important professional items are those closest at hand. Alexei’s are his vices. He’s not a man plagued by his demons; he’s ruled by them. It actually makes me more curious about the Beast. What his motives are for getting involved in treason when he’s just about as high up as one can be?
Then again, in the king’s world, all roads lead back to greed.
I pocket the lighter and uncap the whiskey, taking a swig as I continue to peruse the traitor’s office. I almost choke on the stuff. My eyes tear up as it burns its way down.
I glance at the label again. This stuff isn’t alcohol; this is lighter fluid.
I find nothing else of interest in the office. Gorev is less careless than Goldstein when it comes to leaving damnable breadcrumbs.
I kick my legs up on the desk, and then I wait.
When the Beast walks in, I’m playing with fire.
I flick Alexei’s lighter open and closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed.
He stops.
My gaze is focused on the fire. “Do you know why I’m here?” I ask.
Alexei steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He leans back against it. No one in the WUN would be so stupid as to lock themselves in a room with the person they were betraying. When you live amongst casual violence, you never underestimate people. Not even a young, dying queen.
Especially not a young, dying queen.
But perhaps the infamous Beast of the East sees me as just another meek woman.
“You wanted to speak with me?” he says, one side of his mouth curving up. His eyes fall on the bottle of whiskey.
My mouth curves upward as well. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Even when you know that I know.”
He tenses, and it’s the signal I need. Grabbing the 186 proof alcohol, I saunter around the desk. I stop in front of him.
He has no idea what I’m going to do next.
I tilt whiskey bottle to read the label better. “You know, what it really comes down to is this: you killed my child.”
My eyes flick up to him, and before he has a chance to react, I backhand him with the bottle. Glass shatters against his cheekbone, and the force of the impact throws him to the ground. The alcohol soaks his face and his hair, and it drips down his neck and seeps onto his chest.
The Beast cradles his injured cheek as blood drips between his fingers. I must’ve cut him with the jagged edge I still hold. I drop it to the ground and smash it with my boot.
Then, ever so slowly, I stroll towards him.
He’s drenched in whiskey and glass shards, and he’s losing his calm facade as he crawls away from me.
“The attacks on my life—those I could’ve forgiven. The attacks on Montes’s—well, you know my history. But you involve an innocent?” I kick him onto his back and flick open the lighter I still hold. “That’ll bring out the sadist in me.”
Now I’m seeing this hateful man’s fear. Wrapped up in it is anger and incredulity. I’d like to think that last one has to do with my gender.